Podcasts about Consternation

Consternation pour les employés concernés, recrutés en septembre 2024. Ils ont reçu leur lettre de licenciement hier après‑midi mais ont refusé de signer. Leur représentant syndical, Somanah Buddaru (CTSP), explique que ces employés comptent déjà huit mois de service. Face à cette situation, une manifestation a été organisée devant le conseil de district de Grand Port dès tôt hier matin. Du côté de la centrale syndicale, Reaz Chuttoo déplore une situation qui perdure depuis longtemps : le recrutement se fait à travers une « Ministers' List » et ce sont les employés qui en souffrent lors d'un changement de régime. Il assure toutefois qu'il fera tout pour trouver une solution pour ces travailleurs.

Aujourd'hui, Barbara Lefebvre, Jean-Loup Bonnamy et Fatima Aït-Bounoua débattent de l'actualité autour d'Alain Marschall et Olivier Truchot.

Not the welcome we expectedWhen your tour guide is an assassin, what can go wrong?By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.You can do wrong while trying to do right.FlashbackAlal's 'milk of human kindness' had finally run dry as the Visigoths sacked his Roman villa. While looters ran off with his latest trappings of wealth, and deserted by his servants and his slaves, Grandpa decided that he was tired of fucking around with the Human Race. He felt they were simply too stupid, venal and weak to make any positive, lasting changes in the world.Alal decided that he was going to make the key choices for them. Fuck free will. Fuck letting the vermin that floated to the top of the cesspool destroy everything good in the world, as he had witnessed them doing time and time again. He had lost count of the monuments destroyed, histories of peoples forgotten and benefits to mankind burned away by barbarism and ignorance.By the fading light of August the 26th, 410 CE, Alal found himself sitting back in the pergola (a sort of mini-gazebo) in his rear gardens, drinking through several amphora of wine all the while having a deep philosophical debate with the several dozen very dead Goths decorating his environs.As three or four looters would enter the garden, he would kill them. And then three or four more would show up looking for the earlier group,, on and on. This reinforced Alal's belief that something drastic had to be done. He seriously considered going to the coast, getting a ship and five solid stone anchors. He'd sail out two days, maybe three, wrap himself in the anchors and jump overboard.The problem, as he saw it, was that given a few decades, the ropes would rot and he'd bob to the surface to see again that none of the fundamentals had changed. Further complicating his current thinking was that every time he came close to throwing in the cosmic towel, some more GOD DAMN GOTHS would come around, calling for their buddies, the dead ones. Somewhere around noon on August the 27th, Alal vowed that he was tired of this shit.Right on cue, around twenty Goths came strolling through the rear of his villa and soaked up the carnage out back. Fifty-two of their brethren were in various states of dismemberment and defilement (Alal had been, as usual, angry). They saw this dark-skinned Roman and rightly asked 'where's the army that killed these fellows?' He walked up to them in his wine-splashed toga."Are you the one in charge?" he asked the meanest looking Visigoth in passible Goth."I am," the leader responded. With lightning speed, he killed the man with his own sword. The Germans weren't sure what to make of that, it had happened so fast."You can join me," Alal indicated himself, "or you can join him," he indicated the corpse of their former leader. He had his new band of followers and the rest was Illuminati history.End FlashbackFor me, this meant more to me than living with the memories of a very bitter, driven and pitiless man. Alal was essentially the anti-me. It gave me chills to realize that all of Alal's gifts were bestowed on me with a purpose. I knew it was part of his greater plan. Normally, to end-run an evil genius, you just find him and kill him. Not only would Alal not stay dead, I now knew how well he could fight.I knew only four people who might be in his league, and I wasn't one of them. Of the four, Sakuniyas wasn't likely to help Pamela, Saint Marie and Elsa get the job done. That meant I had to rev up the deception engine to comfort my Aunts with hope, while dispelling the knowledge of how little they mattered to their sire. Almost as bad, I had to ignore what horribly people they were while extending that portion of my soul.It was with some relief that I hugged, kissed, and forcefully separated myself from the Aunts in Dublin. We were going on to Budapest's Ferenc Liszt International Airport. My next action was to make my request to Selena for a contract with the Ghost Tigers to defend Hana when she arrived in Russia. (Of the three 9 Clan Assassin-Babes, Selena was the least impressed with me.) She informed me that the Ghost Tigers didn't do bodyguard work. I still wanted her to relay my request, so she relented. After that, I passed out.We left Dublin around 9:30 am Friday morning and landed in Budapest at 1:45 pm., still Friday. As Rachel rousted me so I could grab a quick shower before touchdown, I was gifted with the misconceptions of my fellow travelers:To put it nicely, Riki thought I was somewhat revolting, Virginia was disturbed and Chaz had lowered his opinion of my moral character. It was the incest thing. Vincent being polite was a pleasant surprise, Delilah's camaraderie less so and Odette was peaches with my most recent sexcapades. She was far too good to me. The Amazons uniformly didn't give a crap."So, is there going to be any other bizarre behavior we should be prepared for?" Riki sat down next to me as I was drying my hair. I was back to my 'jeans, t-shirt and wind-breaker' style."Fine, " I said loudly. "It is really none of your business what I did with and to my mother's clones. Yes, they are all clones of my mother, who died when I was seven." A lie."They are also the genetic creations of my grandfather, also known by many as Cáel O'Shea. They are sterile, they are wickedly evil, and two weeks ago I didn't know they existed. I do have a real aunt in Maryland. She's my Father's sister and is not part of the menagerie. Oh yeah, my grandpa is currently a disembodied spirit, back from the Netherworld and looking for a body to take over, if he hasn't found one already," I added."He was born roughly five thousand years ago, was cursed by an ancient Sumerian Goddess such that he can never just die and stay dead. I have his memories running around my head, which, along with denying me a good night's sleep, allows me to speak an assortment of languages, use virtually every weapon built before 1970 and know that he is a vicious criminal mastermind the likes of which you've never imagined outside of fiction.How does that sound, Riki? Shall I get more bizarre? Trust me, I can," I regarded her evenly. She was speechless, but not out of awe. No, she was certain that I was completely unhinged."Everyone who believes Cáel, raise their hand," Odette demanded. Her hand went up. Odette and the Amazons agreeing was expected by the outsiders. Delilah and Virginia joining in was not."Captain Fairchild?" Colour Sgt. Chaz Tomorrow requested clarification."You've all seen those five O'Shea's that left the plane in Ireland. Barring some cosmetic changes, they were the exact same woman. You can either go with Sean Connery's Tak-ne creating a female clone army, or you can believe there is an otherworldly plastic surgeon altering a cadre of super-rich bitches to all look alike," Delilah, who was a captain of something, put out there."Who in the Hell is Tak-ne?" Riki mumbled."Duh," I poked the State Department lassie. "Connor MacLeod's Egyptian mentor in Highlander, the original movie and in the less than stellar sequel, Highlander: The Quickening"."You are mistaken. Connery was that Spanish guy," Riki poked me back."Actually, the relevant quote is: 'I am Juan Sánchez Villalobos Ramírez, Chief metallurgist to King Charles V of Spain. And I'm at your service'," Vincent regaled us with his movie trivia. "He later reveals that he was born Tak-ne in Egypt in the 9th century BCE. Also, his Spanish name makes no sense, he has one too many surnames.""Agent Loire, I am beginning to find intelligent men to be attractive," Charlotte said."Umm, thank you," Vincent responded warily."This might be a good point to get something clear," Chaz inquired. "Mr. Nyilas, whose side are you on? It appears to be rather complicated.""Okay, Chaz, call me Cáel. Calling me Mr. Nyilas makes me miss my dad. I can also be addressed as Cáel 'Wakko' Ishara, Head of House Ishara of the First Twenty Houses of the Amazon Host. Or, you can call me what the Great Khan does, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege. Finally, those who love me, or find me amusing, may call me Fehér mén."Selena's snort indicated she'd failed to hide her amusement at my presumptiveness, both titular and physically."Do you want to explain what's so amusing?" Riki looked over to the Black Hand assassin."Your job should be exceptionally easy now," Selena mocked me, "Prince of Hungry and Transylvania, or do you prefer 'White Stud'?""Laugh while you can, Monkey-Girl," I sneered. "The guy currently making a run at erasing seven hundred years of Asian history gave me that title. As for Fehér mén, that means 'White Stallion' and is symbolic of my ties to House Epona, not a phallic reference." Riki's look had gone from disgust, to anger (because she thought she was being played) and lastly, to shock."No," I interpreted her fear. "I am not here as some vanguard to unite the Magyar people to their cultural kinfolk in Central Asia. If you know your Central European history, you might recall that the Mongols devastated my homeland. For the next 450 years, the Turks were unwelcome visitors, conquerors and overlords. My princely status is a pat on the head for a job well done and nothing more.""What job did you do?" Riki prodded."I saved a man's life," I looked pained to admit. She didn't get it."It must have been a major VIPs life," Chaz suggested."You can say that," Pamela nodded. "End of discussion time too."At Ferenc Liszt International, we were diverted to a private hangar once more, courtesy of the Republic of Ireland's diplomatic umbrella. Three grey Ford Focuses and a white panel truck advertising a furniture repair store awaited us. Security issues were immediately obvious. They wanted to separate us (in the Fords) from most of our luggage (in the truck).The five guy welcoming party hid under the cloak of 'don't speak any language you claim to speak' and Selena was of zip help. So, I spoke to them in Hungarian. They glanced my way, but didn't respond. Serbian? Nope. Romanian? Nope."Bows and doves," I commanded.That translated rather logically as 'guns/bows' and 'phones/doves'. Out came our pistols. The only Black Hand to react fast enough was Selena and Pamela had her covered. The Amazons were aiming at the locals while Delilah and Chaz had their weapons out and scanning. Vincent and Virginia hadn't been fast enough, this time. They also didn't have guns pointed at them.The lead BH flunky began talking calmly in German, heavily Slavic accented German."What do you think you are doing?" he inquired of me, in German."Disarming you, ya Moron," I grumbled. Then added in Hittite; "Go", and in my Amazons went to very roughly search, disarm and de-phone our not so friendly friends."Alright, gather up your luggage," I called out to my group. "We are walking to town." That wasn't truly accurate. There was a metro associated with the airport, a kilometer away max. Our guides didn't speak English so they were rather surprised when the bags came out of the truck and were distributed to their owners. Riki Martin and Odette were in some trouble.Girls and 'only packing the necessities', Well, we had some diplomatic lumber to toss at the security services, Vincent had web-searched our location and the route we needed to take to the metro, and Delilah had purchased week-long public transport passes for the group. Only when we started marching out of the hangar did the BH comprehend the totality of their error.The five guys in the hangar were chattering away, in Hungarian, and Selena was peeved."You are upsetting my superiors by blatantly disrespecting their courtesy," she reminded me. "They have guaranteed your safety.""Less than a day has passed since the shootout in London, Selena," I countered."This is the Black Hand's backyard," Selena persisted, "not London.""So, you are only going to help us if we do stupid shit we wouldn't do, even on our own home ground, is that it?" I chuckled. "Sweet," then, to my people, "I guess we are on our own."The airport security guards didn't know what to make of our group of over-worked Sherpa, but the US State department and the RoI (Republic of Ireland) vouched for us, so they let us pass.We hadn't taken the cars and the truck because that would have been theft. The confiscated guns and phones had been disassembled and tossed into a large iron drum of used aviation lubricant. Odette began shopping around for hotel reservations (I was carrying most of her gear). She was the logical choice because she sounded the most human of the bunch.Selena called her people back, explained the fuck up and engaged in a mutual ass-chewing that spilled over a half-dozen languages and ended up with Dick-head, the local BH chieftain providing us with quarters that would turn a blind eye to our arsenal. With that address in mind, we made for the bowels of modern Budapest.Dutifully, Riki contacted the US Embassy to Hungary's CIA mission head and Chargé D' Affaires, a.i., updating them on our arrival and movements. At the last moment, I had Riki relay the wrong address, on a paranoid hunch. I was right to be paranoid except I was looking in the wrong direction.We had just disembarked at the Kőbánya-Kispest M3 station when we walked into the rolling ambush. A 'rolling ambush' is like a meeting engagement, the difference being that one side (ours) is on the move, not knowing it is being hunted while the other side (our attackers) was rushing to catch up with us, not knowing where along the path they would find us.As we preparing to transition from the station to the attached terminal, looking for the bus line that would connect us to the BH safe house in the Kőbánya (X) District, our attackers were dismounting their vehicles from across the street as well as to our left and right. They were dressed like cops. Had they been armed like cops,"Oh look," I snickered to Pamela, "I see a whole bunch of heavily armed people coming our way.""Good for you," Pamela muttered. "Your eyes are still working.""Do you think they are here to raise me up on their shields and proclaim me 'Prince'?" I joked."I think they are here to kill us," Pamela grinned."I prefer to think positively," I grinned back."I am positive they are here to kill us," Pamela laughed. It had to be our relaxed demeanor that confused them.Had we been the droids they were looking for, we wouldn't have been chatting in the open with our bags in our hands. That would have made us crazy, and they would have been right. We were crazy alright and there was a method to our madness. It was mid-afternoon, yet there were plenty of average Hungarians wandering about.Sure, they saw the 'special cops' closing in. They didn't see the upcoming shoot-out because that was plain nuts. A gun battle in a modern metropolis in broad daylight? London yesterday was an aberration, not the new normal. Our impromptu plan was to let the killers get as close as possible to limit the collateral damage.This wasn't classic Amazon training. It was a concession to allies who did care about civilians killed in the cross-fire. The oncoming hit squad was finally putting faces to targets when Odette broke the calm before the storm. All she did was squeak when Vincent pushed her behind a kiosk. Riki took Virginia shifting her to cover in silence.Delilah took off at a dead-run to the south-east. They were raising their shotguns and assault rifles. We were drawing our pistols. Normally this would have been an unequal match, except that in the time period where, in their eyes, we had gone from bystanders to targets, they'd also covered a good deal of ground, to the point that they were out in the open while my fighting band was in close proximity to all kinds of cover.It started out as eighteen to twelve. Pamela, Chaz and Selena quickly cut down those odd by five. Me? I didn't try to shoot and run at the same time, so I made it to cover and was stuck there by our opponents use of fully-automatic fire.My lack of martial prowess could be forgiven by the reality I was the one they were trying to off. My greatest contribution to this skirmish was tossing my SPAS-12 to Chaz so he could use something more than his standard military issue Glock-17. I had barely gotten Chaz's appreciative nod when two grenades went off in close proximity to me.At first, I heard and felt nothing. My eyes were having trouble focusing. When my limbs began to orient themselves, I had to fight down the instinct to move. I was lying down, which was far safer than staggering around in the middle of this hail of lead. The twin grenades turned out to be their second and very fatal mistake on this mission.The first had been their delay in identifying my group. The second, using the stun grenades, did put me, Pamela and Selena out of commission temporarily. But their mistake was having misplaced my six Amazons in this mess they had created. They did have thirteen shooters versus Chaz, Virginia and Vincent. They rushed our position using the classic advance while firing rote.Two meters from me, the six Amazons revealed themselves with five P-90's and one big-ass bow. Four escaped the kill zone only to find themselves flanked by Delilah. Her .480, combined with their confusion, finished off the survivors. That wasn't the end of it. We still had to effect our get-away.I was still getting my head on straight as the ladies decided to hotwire some of the deceased men's rides and get us the heck out of Dodge. Recovery brought with it the knowledge that Virginia and Chaz had been shot. Pamela, Selena and me, we had some scrapes and bruises. Everyone else checked out. Mona let us know that she could handle the wounded. They wouldn't be doing jumping jacks for a week or two, but a hospital was not required. On the downside, no one believed that eighteen killers dressed as cops randomly rolled up on our transit point by accident. The only people who knew about our change in travel plans had been the Black Hand. We'd lied to the US.We broke into an abandoned factory to stash the vehicles and make our next plan. Selena was coldly furious. Not only did she come to the same conclusion we had, the Black Hand had set us up to be murdered, we weren't letting her call in. Wiesława and Charlotte kept their guns pointed at her, so low was our level of trust.Chaz was pretty much of the opinion that Selena should be coerced to provide us with the names and locations of the Black Hand involved so that we could do our own 'fact finding tour'. Oddly, none of the Americans asked to be pulled out. Vincent and Riki wanted to let the US Embassy know what had happened, yet were willing to wait until we were secure somewhere first.Rachel was on board with Chaz's idea, with the addendum that they kill every Black Hand they could get their hands on before fleeing the city. They had tried to kill ME after all. I was touched. It was Pamela who put things in perspective.1) The attackers were not Black Hand, they were mercenaries and that pointed a bloody finger at the Condottieri.2) Selena wasn't a fanatic and her life had been in as much danger as anyone else's. She wasn't part of our ambush. Her buddies had tossed her under the bus.3) It would have been far easier to catch us in that convoy they'd tried to stick us with. Caught in pre-planned crossfires and without our heavier weapons, we would have all died.4) Having failed to deliver us to the pre-planned ambush site, the Condottieri had to rush to our metro stop because, the safe house they had prepared for us wouldn't have worked. We had the numbers to allow us take total charge of our security once we were in place. No, gauging our numbers, this traitor had sent the mercs into a straight-up fight they'd just lost.

Simon's live update for Al Arabiya News, with Leigh-Ann Gerrans anchoring.

The first week of the second Trump administration has seen refugees cut off and January 6th criminals cut loose. Franklin Graham declared in his inauguration prayer that God himself had chosen the President. The MAGA faithful applauded this mix of Christian faith and politics, but when Bishop Budde asked the President to “show mercy” to frightened people during her homily at the National Cathedral, she was accused of everything from political activism to witchcraft. Phil has a theory about what these two religious leaders at the inauguration reveal about the state of American Christianity. Then Matthew Soerens from World Relief is back to discuss Trump's immediate shut down of all refugee resettlement, including cutting all financial aid previously promised to refugees already in the U.S. What's behind the President's aggressive policy, and how can we practically help our neighbors abandoned by the government that brought them here? Also this week—reanimated squirrels and Skye wears a red hat.   0:00 - Show Starts   4:14 - Theme Song   4:36  - Sponsor - Go to https://www.fromourplace.com and use code HOLYPOST to get 10% off site wide on beautiful cookware!   5:42 - Sponsor - Faithful Counseling - This episode is sponsored by Faithful Counseling. Give online therapy a try at https://www.faithfulcounseling.com/HOLYPOST and get 10% off   10:54 - Inauguration   20:57 - The Demonization of Empathy   27:08 - Loyalty Buys Protection   32:26 - Cruelty as Proof of Allegiance   39:30 - Created Order vs. the Marginalized   59:07 - Sponsor - Sundays Dog Food - Get 40% off your first order of Sundays. Go to https://www.SundaysForDogs.com/HOLYPOST or use code HOLYPOST at checkout.   1:00:08 - Sponsor - The NIV Lectio Bible - A simple, ancient way to read the library of scripture. Find it at https://www.nivlectio.com or wherever Bibles are sold!   1:01:17 - Sponsor - J29 Coalition - Guide your church into a Christ-centered approach to politics! Visit https://j29coalition.com to sign up today   1:02:24 - Interview    1:05:50 - The Refugee Resettlement Program   1:09:44 - We Invited Refugees   1:15:22 - What Options to Help Refugees   1:21:45 - Helping Local Immigrant Communities   1:28:10 - End Credits   Links Mentioned in News Segment: Evangelicals Made a Bad Trade: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2025/01/evangelicals-trump/681450/   Collision of Two Christianities: https://religionnews.com/2025/01/24/inauguration-week-was-a-collision-of-two-christianities/?utm_source=flipboard&utm_content=topic/donaldtrump&utm_medium=social   Other resources: Learn how recent executive orders are having a devastating impact on thousands of refugees and humanitarian programs both in the U.S. and globally, and find out how you can help make a difference! Learn more: https://worldrelief.org/stand-in-the-gap/?utm_source=HolyPost&utm_medium=ShowNotes&utm_campaign=EO_UrgentAppeal   Partner with World Relief: https://give.worldrelief.org/site/Donation2?df_id=5541&5541.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T&utm_source=HolyPost&utm_medium=ShowNotes&utm_campaign=EO_UrgentAppeal   Advocacy:   Sign the Christian Statement on Refugee Resettlement: https://worldrelief.org/christianstatement/   Easy tool to contact Congress with talking points: https://p2a.co/AEQhezU   Prayer: folks are welcome to register for an update & prayer call on Friday (1/31) at 1 PM ET/12 PM CT https://discover.worldrelief.org/stand-in-the-gap-hom   Holy Post website: https://www.holypost.com/   Holy Post Plus: www.holypost.com/plus   Holy Post Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/holypost   Holy Post Merch Store: https://www.holypost.com/shop   The Holy Post is supported by our listeners. We may earn affiliate commissions through links listed here. As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases.

durée : 00:04:33 - Le Zoom de France Inter - Donald Trump souhaite que le Groenland (qui appartient au Royaume du Danemark) passe sous contrôle des États-Unis… Il n'exclut pas une intervention militaire pour y parvenir, si nécessaire. Des propos accueillis très froidement sur place.

Daniel discusses the ongoing New Jersey drone flap in light of other recent drone incursions.  Is it related to recent revelations regarding the alleged SAP named "Immaculate Constellation" or just another military psyop?ministryx@protonmail.com

Daniel discusses the ongoing New Jersey drone flap in light of other recent drone incursions.  Is it related to recent revelations regarding the alleged SAP named "Immaculate Conception" or a just another military psyop?

Not every investment goes according to plan!Yes, every worthy investment comes with a certain level of risk. Not every investment will be a home run. Not every investment will hit projections.We've sung the praises of real estate syndications time and again, but they aren't as foolproof as we thought! It didn't help that the COVID cascade - excessive "printing" of currency leading to excessive rates of inflation - caused the adjustable-rate mortgages (which are very common in commercial/multifamily financing) on many of our syndications to shoot through the roof. The absurd rise in rates wasn't predicted by anyone, and it bit us in the ass. Although property values and our associated capital has appreciated, cash flow distributions have not hit the mark.Now, we still believe the syndication model is a solid path to financial freedom. But with anything, proceed with caution and always do your due diligence. Tune in to hear our lessons learned!

Le 15 avril 2019, l'incendie de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris a suscité une vague d'émotions à travers la France et dans le monde. Consternation, tristesse, mais aussi colère, chacun a réagi d'une manière différente. 5 ans après, les stigmates et les souvenirs sont toujours présents. Avec : - Sylvie Sagnes, ethnologue, chargée de recherche au CNRS, spécialités anthropologie du patrimoine et émotions patrimoniales - Emmanuelle Bonit, psychologue clinicienne

[00:00:00] James Lankford   [00:18:23] Tommy Tuberville   [00:36:46] Andrew McCarthy   [00:55:10] Jacqui Heinrich   [01:31:56] Marc Thiessen Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Look - I should really plan better when I take an unexpected trip to Romania. But I did not. Enjoy all the same. #NSFWThings just get more. More more. Oh you were confused last week?  Well it doesn't get any better this week.  If anything it gets worse... more soupy, more sloppy, more salacious.Greta badly speaks more Spanish - but mainly in the service of the 2! DOS! Zorros issue.Jamie is baffled by the twins issue - not twin Zorros, just regular Telenovella twins.Excitement as we are in New York.  Consternation as a transit across the Panama Isthmus is proposed.And as always we have fun dashing about the (not actually) old Los Angeles countryside as the Mexican sway over Las Californias is in the process of being lost.  But not before we are teased with more bears.  When will we solve the mystery of the dang bears!?As always - you can reach us on the internets.Jamie Lewis (plagueofstrength.com & IG @plagueofstrength)and his NEW YouTube Apprearances on Carved Outta Stone Wednesday AM or Friday PMSchedule Details: instagram.com/carvedouttastone&Greta Hardin (The History of American Food podcast & @THoAFood all over)

Happy Halloween! And a spooky Listener Questions episode to you and yours! On this one, we're answering your questions about the outrage regarding this year's Ballon d'Or, Andres Iniesta's career and legacy, fathers and sons on the same team, ideal MLS kickoff times, footballer-inspired songs, and much much more!JOIN THE TSS+ PATREON!Check out our Patreon, which houses bonus podcasts, access to our exclusive Discord, blog posts, videos, and much more.Become a member today at patreon.com/totalsoccershow! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Happy Halloween! And a spooky Listener Questions episode to you and yours! On this one, we're answering your questions about the outrage regarding this year's Ballon d'Or, Andres Iniesta's career and legacy, fathers and sons on the same team, ideal MLS kickoff times, footballer-inspired songs, and much much more! JOIN THE TSS+ PATREON! Check out our Patreon, which houses bonus podcasts, access to our exclusive Discord, blog posts, videos, and much more. Become a member today at patreon.com/totalsoccershow! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A recap of the hundreds of millions of dollars that the Biden-Harris Administration claims that FEMA didn't spend on the migrant surge. A Tucson balloon launched from Page causes consternation in Texas. Hilarity ensues.

Que faire pour empêcher des personnes de monter à bord de pirogues au Sénégal afin de tenter de gagner illégalement l'Europe ? C'est souvent au péril de leur vie, comme dimanche 8 septembre 2024, après le chavirement d'une embarcation avec à bord plus d'une centaine de Sénégalais. Bilan : au moins 39 morts et de nombreux disparus. Tous étaient originaires de la ville de Mbour, d'où est partie la pirogue. Notre correspondant s'est rendu dans les quartiers de la ville qui ont payé le plus lourd tribut. Thiocé est à environ 2 kilomètres de la plage où les corps repêchés en mer ces derniers jours ont été ramenés. La vie de quartier y reprend progressivement. À côté d'une route fréquentée, une quinzaine de jeunes discutent. Certains portent des lunettes de soleil, afin de cacher leurs yeux rougis par les larmes.Dans le chavirement de la pirogue, Serigne Man Daow a perdu son frère, qui n'avait prévenu personne de son départ. Mais le jeune homme n'a aucune peine à expliquer ce qui a motivé son frère : « Les jeunes partent parce qu'ils n'ont pas ce qu'ils veulent ici, dans leur propre pays. Tu te lèves chaque jour et affrontes des situations où tu ne peux pas trouver de solution. Ton travail, quand tu en as un, ne te permet pas de soutenir ta famille. Les jeunes qui meurent sont de braves personnes. Leur seul tort, c'est de vouloir trouver des solutions. Ils voulaient réussir, mais le destin est trop difficile. »À Guinaw Rail, l'autre quartier de Mbour dont étaient originaires de nombreuses victimes, les familles aussi se rassemblent pour prier. Khady Bébé a perdu deux petits neveux : « C'est très dur, tous les espoirs de leur mère sont brisés. En tant que parents et grands-parents, notre souhait était d'assister à leur mariage, pas à leur enterrement. Nous souffrons tous. »À lire aussiSénégal: bilan humain incertain après le naufrage d'une pirogue avec au moins 150 passagers au large de MbourEmpêcher les départs « Toute la ville est en deuil », affirme Mamadou Thiam, qui regrette le peu d'action des autorités sur le sujet : « L'État n'a jamais réagi, on est abandonnés et impuissants la situation. Il n'y a pas de travail. En attendant, il faut bloquer les départs de ces jeunes. »À ses côtés, Baba Diop, dont plusieurs membres de la famille étaient à bord de la pirogue. Pour lui, la responsabilité vient aussi des pays qui donnent des visas au compte-goutte aux jeunes : « Les ambassades ne délivrent pas de visas. Il faut que les pays d'Europe délivrent un certain nombre de visas pour donner un peu d'espoir à ceux qui s'y rendent. »À Mbour, mercredi 11 septembre, le président Bassirou Diomaye Faye a assuré que le gouvernement travaille d'arrache-pied contre le chômage et a promis d'accentuer la lutte contre les passeurs. Les habitants, ici, attendent de voir les résultats.À lire aussiÀ la Une: le drame de Mbour au Sénégal, un scénario qui se répète encore et encore

Scripture used: Luke 8:2; Luke 7:47; 1 John 4:18a; 2 Timothy 4:2a; Philippians 3:21; 1 John 3:2; 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-44; John 11:43-44; Mark 5:41-42; Luke 7:13-16a; Psalm 16:10; Psalm 30:3; Hosea 6:2; Leviticus 23:10-11; 1 Corinthians 15:20-22; John 14:19; John 11:23-26; John 10:3b-4; Hebrews 2:11 Main Points: This is a Day of . . . Dedication . . . without excuses Exasperation . . . when all seems lost Examination . . . in search of the facts Realization . . . of remarkable truth Consternation . . . with a heavy heart Confrontation . . . with the living Lord Desperation . . . to make things right Adoration . . . at the feet of Jesus Proclamation . . . He's alive!

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.The streets had been quiet as we’d passed, oddly subdued. The few people we saw had quickly ducked out of our way, though we were in our tunicae and sandals.Kostas’ place, I was happy to see, was lively. Drunken soldiers weren’t spilling out of the place, but there was enough of a crowd that we had to push our way past a few people. I led Helena to the back, where crusty old Kostas scowled from behind his bar.“Kostas,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I promised this Rhodian lady some pitaroudia. Are you going to disappoint her?”“Rhodian?” He said, suddenly a lot less grouchy looking.“From Lindos,” Helena said.We chatted for a bit, swapping the latest bit of island news that we had while Kostas poured us a couple of flagons of dark wine. The food would be ready in a few minutes, he told us.“She’s paying,” I said, when I spotted Kostas’ young son.The kid was coming back with an empty drink tray. I hooked him by the arm, leading him away. I put a silver coin in his hand, promising him another if he’d fetch something for me.Helena looked at me curiously, but I kept my mouth shut against her silent question.“Centenarius!” I heard a voice call. “Leontius!”I turned, already feeling a grin stretching my features. At a nearby table, five men were waving towards me. They wore happy smiles, their cheeks rosy with wine.“Sergius! You old bastard! What the hell are you doing here?”Sergius, a crusty old stratiotai with more scars on him than most had years, made a show of cupping one ear.“Can’t hear you so good, sir! Come here and whisper it to me.”The men at his table laughed. I did too, shaking my head.“Friends of yours?” Helena asked.“Men from my old cohort,” I said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”Helena’s body tightened. I saw that same expression flash across her features. Resignation? Consternation? I wasn’t sure. Even here, away from the dark street, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d seen. It was gone too fast.“Sure,” she said, stepping forward and forcing me to move after her.The men rose to meet me, and I greeted each with a rough embrace and a few rougher words. Sergius, Gratian, Suda, Maurice and Niketas; as good a squad of stratiotai that had ever served in Justinian’s legions.“Boys, this is Helena,” I said as we sat in the chairs pulled over for us. “My shield mate. She guards the Empress with me.”Sergius blinked. Maurice choked on his wine while Suda and Niketas glanced at each other in disbelief. Helena, however, seemed to loosen. Her gaze flicked to me, and I saw the faint crinkle of something disappear from the corners of her eyes.Gratian, horse’s ass that he was, guffawed.“Come on, Centenarius,” he said. He was seated on Helena’s other side, and took the opportunity to drape one arm around her shoulders. “You can’t expect us to believe that sweet little thing fights beside you?”Whatever else I could say about Gratian, and there was a lot, I couldn’t fault his eye.Helena was in her tunica, cut in the same simple, utilitarian shape as my own. It was loose, ending just above her knees and doing nothing to accentuate the feminine curves of her body. However, unlike the wrinkled, slightly stained pale gray of my tunica, hers had been dyed a deep green.It was near to the cypress of her eyes. It made them appear brighter, and more vivid than I’d ever seen them. The green brought out the copper of her hair, deepening it and adding layers to those tumbling waves.She was beautiful; the field of grass after rain.“You think I’m sweet?” Helena said, lips curling into a small smile.“Sweet enough to eat,” he said. His eyes roved up and down her body. “How much?”Helena stayed relaxed. That small smile never left her lips.“I’m good, too.” Gratian insisted. “You’ll see. My phallus’s so good that you should be the one paying me!”He snickered through his leering grin. I shook my head when Sergius opened his mouth to interfere. Although I needn’t have. Because, an instant later, Helena’s fist crunched into Gratian’s throat.He gagged, falling backwards, his chair crashing to the ground. The tavern fell silent, all eyes on Helena as she slowly stood. Helena’s eyes swept the room. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then two. Her lip suddenly quirked.“Nobody touches before they pay.”The room exploded with laughter, covering the sound of Gratian’s moaning. Helena sat back down, while I moved to help the man pick himself off the floor.“I’ll kill her,” he choked. “I’ll fucking kill that bitch.”“Shut up,” I said, loud enough for the others to hear. “She’d gut you like a fish. And I’d cut off whatever bits my shield mate left of you.”I pulled him up, and made a show of checking him over. I hissed into his ear. “You stupid bastard. Helena’s the Empress’ personal guard. Do you want your head to the decorate palace walls?”Gratian’s face blanched. He started to stammer something but I pushed him away. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Go get us some more wine.”“Whatever Kostas hasn’t pissed in for me,” Helena called.Sergius grin was wide. “Good punch, that. It's the only way to get him to shut his hole.”“Aye,” Niketas said, draining his cup. He burped. “Finally, some fucking peace.”“Centenarius,” Maurice said, leaning forward. “No offense to your lady, but a shield mate? Are you sure about this?”“This lady,” Helena said. “Can speak for herself. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you mean.”Maurice complied. “You’re a woman. You’re real pretty, I’ll give you that, but you don’t know what this means.”“I don’t need a phallus to piss standing up. Why would I need one to hold up a shield?”Maurice smirked. “Cute. But it's more than that, it's,”"Wait, you can piss standing up?” Gratian interrupted, returning with two clay pitchers of wine. “Seriously?”The others groaned.“That wasn’t the point, Grat,” Suda said. “Although, now I am a bit curious,”"It's easy,” Helena said, throwing him a wink. “And I guarantee that I can piss better than Grat fucks.”Laughter rolled around the table. Even Gratian snickered, though heat crawled up his face. He started pouring the wine, filling Helena’s cup and then mine.“So, what the hell are you talking about, then?”“If she can really be Leo’s shield mate,” Maurice said. “If she can fight.”“She knows what it means, Maur,” I said. “She’s good, too. Fast. And she’s got some sense, unlike you thick-headed bastards.”“Good enough for me,” Sergius said. “What do you say boys, we gonna keep her around?”“Let's drink!” Niketas said, grabbing his cup.Sergius banged the table, hoisting his own cup into the air. “To Helena!”“Helena!” We roared, slamming our empty cups down a few moments later.Helena joined in, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed a happy red. Our pitaroudia arrived, and we fell to bickering over the platter of fried balls. They were delicious; tomato, onion and bits of a leafy herb mixed into a patty of ground chickpea.These were rough men that lived rough lives. They were soldiers; killers that earned their coin in the grinding crush of the shield wall. They respected a foul mouth, a hard fist and loyalty to one’s brothers.They were stratiotai.And when Helena clacked her cup with a still sheepish looking Gratian; I saw them start to think of her as one too.“Leo never told me that he was a Centenarius,” Helena eventually said.I snorted. “That’s because I’m not. These idiots just call me that.”“The crest on the helmet don’t make the Centenarius,” Suda drawled. “Ain’t that right, Serg?”“You’re damned right about that, lad,” the older man replied. “Some wise words there.”I rolled my eyes, the rest of the boys snickering into their cups. Sergius liked to share whatever kernels of wisdom popped into his head. We’d all heard this particular one a hundred times already.“We call him that because of Callinicum,” Sergius continued, answering Helena’s question.“Ah,” she said. “You were all there?”Sergius nodded, “and my bones would be decorating some Persian’s trophy shelf if it wasn’t for the Centenarius here. All of ours would.”The mood sobered, each of us remembering. I looked down to my hands; seeing the flecks of old, old blood beneath my fingernails. The ones I could never seem to clean.“Was it bad?” Helena asked.“Aye,” Sergius answered. “The old Centenarius was a right stupid prick. He got himself killed in the first charge of the Sassanid horsemen. Leontius here took over after that. Things were real shaky for a bit, but he kept us from scattering and being cut to pieces. And when the general decided he’d had enough of watching us die, Leo got us retreating.”Nobody spoke for a while, memories holding us. Some of us put wine to our lips. I just stared out at nothing with unfocused eyes. The mood remained dark until Gratian, bless his fool soul, blurted out;“Fuck, but Centenarius Demetrius was a prick.”That brought out a few chuckles. Niketas let out another burp, and Maurice swatted the back of his head. Most of us felt lighter after that. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the past. The things we’d done, the friends we’d lost, It wasn’t good to remember. Stratiotai had to live for the moment.Maybe that was why I’d always been such a terrible soldier.Midnight guard duty.It was approaching midnight when Sergius hauled himself to his feet. He blinked bleary eyes, motioning to the others.“Right boys, we’ve got patrol in the morning. Let’s get moving.”The men swallowed their last mouthfuls of wine, said their goodbyes and stumbled away with various levels of coordination.Sergius watched them go with a shake of his head. He riffled through a pouch at his side for a moment before turning back to me.“I’ve got something for you here, Centenarius. It got to the barracks a week or so ago.”He held a folded envelope out towards me. It had my name on it, written out in my mother’s blocky hand. I snatched it from him, quickly stuffing it away and out of sight. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to ruin this night.“It was good to see you, Leo,” Sergius said. He pulled me to my feet, and pounded my back in a rough embrace. “Don’t forget about us rankers while you’re dining with nobles.”“Take care of yourself, Serg,” I said, returning his embrace. “And, thank you.”“We’re on garrison duty,” the old soldier grinned. “What’s going to happen in the capital?”Sergius surprised Helena by pulling her into a hug next. “Keep your shield tight to his. Our Centenarius always seems to be around when shit is the deepest.”“I’ll keep him the sword from his back,” Helena said. “Though, it might loosen him up a bit.”The older man laughed. “It was good to meet you, lass. And remember, you’ve got a brother in old Sergius.” With a last little wave, he ambled out and into the deepening night.“You were right,” Helena said, settling back. She popped the last of the pitaroudia in her mouth. “This is a great place.”“Even with Grat here?” I asked with a smile.“Even still,” she said, her lips curling upward. She put her elbow on the table, leaning her heads against her palm. “I’m happy that you introduced me to your friends. I didn’t think it would be this, nice.”“It was,” I said. I shifted in my seat, wanting to move my chair closer to her. But the movement jostled the letter in my pocket. Suddenly, my mother’s words weighed more than a boulder. I shifted again, an awkward jerk of my body that accomplished nothing.Helena’s smile softened. She took pity on me, scooting over until her leg pressed against mine. I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair. We sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the quiet murmur of the few remaining patrons.“This was always my favorite part,” I said, after a while. I opened my eyes to find Helena watching me, waiting for me to continue.“A place like this,” I said. “With the others; once the campaigns done. It’s,”I trailed off, trying to order my thoughts. How could I explain this to someone who’d never been to war? How did I tell her of the constant tension; of the anxious expectation that came with knowing that somewhere, beyond the light of your campfire, someone wanted you dead.Kill or be killed; there was none of that here. I could drink with my friends, without wondering which of them I would lose. Or what I would have to do.It was just; "different,” I finished.Helena didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile or tease. She just watched me with eyes that took in so much of me. I caught a glimpse of it; the edge that wondrous vastness behind her cypress gaze. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and letting out a long breath.“Different,” she said. “I like that.”My eyes suddenly prickled. I blinked furiously, trying to clear the wetness seeping into them. I turned, leaning my chin against her hair; breathing in the scent of her. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my mother’s letter forgotten.“Leo,” she said. “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”“I, I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve always been a soldier.”“But could you do it for ten more years?”“What else would I do? My father was stratiotai, and his father and his father. I don’t know anything else.”Helena shifted against my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck.“What was your plan once you retired?”I bobbed my shoulders in a small shrug, careful not to disturb her. “Go back to Rhodos. My mother is a seamstress. I’d help her run the shop.”“And marry a ‘good’ woman?” She said, her tone edged with mocking.I didn’t answer, though I tightened my grip on Helena. For a heartbeat, her body was stiff. Then, she let out another long breath, relaxing against me.“What about something like this?” She asked, gesturing around us. “A tavern.”“Running a Winehouse?”She pushed off of me, suddenly more animated. “Why not? You could open a soldier’s tavern on Rhodos; make a place for old stratiotai.”“A peaceful place,” I murmured.“Exactly!” She grinned. “It's a good idea, right?”“I’d have to learn how to make pitaroudia,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.“I’m sure Kostas will give you his recipe.”I laughed. “I’m a solider, Helena, not a cook. I think I even burned water once.”“You are a soldier,” she said. Her eyes held mine. “But you can be something else.”I looked away, swallowing.“You’ll think about it?”“Sure,” I forced some lightness into my tone. “But only if you promise that you’d go out and catch fish for me every day.”Helena stiffened, her face suddenly bright red. Not the reaction I’d been expecting. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching. “You don’t think I’d be better as the cook? Or serving drinks?”“No,” I said, not having to force my smile. “You belong on the sea, right?”Her eyes were so wide. I felt my heart start to beat faster. That vastness, it was there, rising to the edge of her; on the verge of breaking through.“Leo,” she murmured. “I,”She was interrupted by the thump of a pouch onto our table. I looked over to find Kostas’ son standing by our table. The kid looked exhausted, but triumphant."You found what I asked for, then?” I said.He nodded, holding out a grubby hand.“Good man,” I grinned, flipping him a silver coin. He disappeared without another word. I quickly disengaged myself from Helena to put the lumpy, medium sized pouch away.“It's a surprise,” I told her. “For later.”She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t press me. She downed her last mouthful of wine, letting out a happy sigh. “We have to come back here.”I nodded, bringing my own wine to my lips.“It's nice to see that you can relax without my cunny in your mouth.”I choked, spraying out a mouthful of wine. Helena laughed, that deep, joy-filled sound. She pounded my back as I coughed myself hoarse. My face blazed, and I felt the eyes of everyone turn towards me.“Leo,” she said. “You’re defenseless.”I coughed, glaring at her through watery eyes.“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”We walked out into the night, breathing in the city’s quiet. Although, it did not last long. We were but a handful of blocks from the Winehouse, when, out of the dark, we saw the fire.And heard the baying of the mob.A past shared with the Empress.The baying of the mob. The glow of fire.After a few moments of debate, Helena and I decided to move towards it. There were no screams of pain, no real sounds of violence coming from the streets ahead. We would see what there was, we decided, before returning to the Empress.We came into a square; one with a small, torch-lit church planted solidly at the northern end. A few squads of armored stratiotai, perhaps forty men, stood before the single door. They were imperial legionaries, though I did not recognize any of the grim-faced men. They all looked outward, swords drawn.Surrounding them, was the mob.The seething body of humanity was all around them. They totally filled the square; men, women, children. The old and the

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.The streets had been quiet as we’d passed, oddly subdued. The few people we saw had quickly ducked out of our way, though we were in our tunicae and sandals.Kostas’ place, I was happy to see, was lively. Drunken soldiers weren’t spilling out of the place, but there was enough of a crowd that we had to push our way past a few people. I led Helena to the back, where crusty old Kostas scowled from behind his bar.“Kostas,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I promised this Rhodian lady some pitaroudia. Are you going to disappoint her?”“Rhodian?” He said, suddenly a lot less grouchy looking.“From Lindos,” Helena said.We chatted for a bit, swapping the latest bit of island news that we had while Kostas poured us a couple of flagons of dark wine. The food would be ready in a few minutes, he told us.“She’s paying,” I said, when I spotted Kostas’ young son.The kid was coming back with an empty drink tray. I hooked him by the arm, leading him away. I put a silver coin in his hand, promising him another if he’d fetch something for me.Helena looked at me curiously, but I kept my mouth shut against her silent question.“Centenarius!” I heard a voice call. “Leontius!”I turned, already feeling a grin stretching my features. At a nearby table, five men were waving towards me. They wore happy smiles, their cheeks rosy with wine.“Sergius! You old bastard! What the hell are you doing here?”Sergius, a crusty old stratiotai with more scars on him than most had years, made a show of cupping one ear.“Can’t hear you so good, sir! Come here and whisper it to me.”The men at his table laughed. I did too, shaking my head.“Friends of yours?” Helena asked.“Men from my old cohort,” I said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”Helena’s body tightened. I saw that same expression flash across her features. Resignation? Consternation? I wasn’t sure. Even here, away from the dark street, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d seen. It was gone too fast.“Sure,” she said, stepping forward and forcing me to move after her.The men rose to meet me, and I greeted each with a rough embrace and a few rougher words. Sergius, Gratian, Suda, Maurice and Niketas; as good a squad of stratiotai that had ever served in Justinian’s legions.“Boys, this is Helena,” I said as we sat in the chairs pulled over for us. “My shield mate. She guards the Empress with me.”Sergius blinked. Maurice choked on his wine while Suda and Niketas glanced at each other in disbelief. Helena, however, seemed to loosen. Her gaze flicked to me, and I saw the faint crinkle of something disappear from the corners of her eyes.Gratian, horse’s ass that he was, guffawed.“Come on, Centenarius,” he said. He was seated on Helena’s other side, and took the opportunity to drape one arm around her shoulders. “You can’t expect us to believe that sweet little thing fights beside you?”Whatever else I could say about Gratian, and there was a lot, I couldn’t fault his eye.Helena was in her tunica, cut in the same simple, utilitarian shape as my own. It was loose, ending just above her knees and doing nothing to accentuate the feminine curves of her body. However, unlike the wrinkled, slightly stained pale gray of my tunica, hers had been dyed a deep green.It was near to the cypress of her eyes. It made them appear brighter, and more vivid than I’d ever seen them. The green brought out the copper of her hair, deepening it and adding layers to those tumbling waves.She was beautiful; the field of grass after rain.“You think I’m sweet?” Helena said, lips curling into a small smile.“Sweet enough to eat,” he said. His eyes roved up and down her body. “How much?”Helena stayed relaxed. That small smile never left her lips.“I’m good, too.” Gratian insisted. “You’ll see. My phallus’s so good that you should be the one paying me!”He snickered through his leering grin. I shook my head when Sergius opened his mouth to interfere. Although I needn’t have. Because, an instant later, Helena’s fist crunched into Gratian’s throat.He gagged, falling backwards, his chair crashing to the ground. The tavern fell silent, all eyes on Helena as she slowly stood. Helena’s eyes swept the room. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then two. Her lip suddenly quirked.“Nobody touches before they pay.”The room exploded with laughter, covering the sound of Gratian’s moaning. Helena sat back down, while I moved to help the man pick himself off the floor.“I’ll kill her,” he choked. “I’ll fucking kill that bitch.”“Shut up,” I said, loud enough for the others to hear. “She’d gut you like a fish. And I’d cut off whatever bits my shield mate left of you.”I pulled him up, and made a show of checking him over. I hissed into his ear. “You stupid bastard. Helena’s the Empress’ personal guard. Do you want your head to the decorate palace walls?”Gratian’s face blanched. He started to stammer something but I pushed him away. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Go get us some more wine.”“Whatever Kostas hasn’t pissed in for me,” Helena called.Sergius grin was wide. “Good punch, that. It's the only way to get him to shut his hole.”“Aye,” Niketas said, draining his cup. He burped. “Finally, some fucking peace.”“Centenarius,” Maurice said, leaning forward. “No offense to your lady, but a shield mate? Are you sure about this?”“This lady,” Helena said. “Can speak for herself. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you mean.”Maurice complied. “You’re a woman. You’re real pretty, I’ll give you that, but you don’t know what this means.”“I don’t need a phallus to piss standing up. Why would I need one to hold up a shield?”Maurice smirked. “Cute. But it's more than that, it's,”"Wait, you can piss standing up?” Gratian interrupted, returning with two clay pitchers of wine. “Seriously?”The others groaned.“That wasn’t the point, Grat,” Suda said. “Although, now I am a bit curious,”"It's easy,” Helena said, throwing him a wink. “And I guarantee that I can piss better than Grat fucks.”Laughter rolled around the table. Even Gratian snickered, though heat crawled up his face. He started pouring the wine, filling Helena’s cup and then mine.“So, what the hell are you talking about, then?”“If she can really be Leo’s shield mate,” Maurice said. “If she can fight.”“She knows what it means, Maur,” I said. “She’s good, too. Fast. And she’s got some sense, unlike you thick-headed bastards.”“Good enough for me,” Sergius said. “What do you say boys, we gonna keep her around?”“Let's drink!” Niketas said, grabbing his cup.Sergius banged the table, hoisting his own cup into the air. “To Helena!”“Helena!” We roared, slamming our empty cups down a few moments later.Helena joined in, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed a happy red. Our pitaroudia arrived, and we fell to bickering over the platter of fried balls. They were delicious; tomato, onion and bits of a leafy herb mixed into a patty of ground chickpea.These were rough men that lived rough lives. They were soldiers; killers that earned their coin in the grinding crush of the shield wall. They respected a foul mouth, a hard fist and loyalty to one’s brothers.They were stratiotai.And when Helena clacked her cup with a still sheepish looking Gratian; I saw them start to think of her as one too.“Leo never told me that he was a Centenarius,” Helena eventually said.I snorted. “That’s because I’m not. These idiots just call me that.”“The crest on the helmet don’t make the Centenarius,” Suda drawled. “Ain’t that right, Serg?”“You’re damned right about that, lad,” the older man replied. “Some wise words there.”I rolled my eyes, the rest of the boys snickering into their cups. Sergius liked to share whatever kernels of wisdom popped into his head. We’d all heard this particular one a hundred times already.“We call him that because of Callinicum,” Sergius continued, answering Helena’s question.“Ah,” she said. “You were all there?”Sergius nodded, “and my bones would be decorating some Persian’s trophy shelf if it wasn’t for the Centenarius here. All of ours would.”The mood sobered, each of us remembering. I looked down to my hands; seeing the flecks of old, old blood beneath my fingernails. The ones I could never seem to clean.“Was it bad?” Helena asked.“Aye,” Sergius answered. “The old Centenarius was a right stupid prick. He got himself killed in the first charge of the Sassanid horsemen. Leontius here took over after that. Things were real shaky for a bit, but he kept us from scattering and being cut to pieces. And when the general decided he’d had enough of watching us die, Leo got us retreating.”Nobody spoke for a while, memories holding us. Some of us put wine to our lips. I just stared out at nothing with unfocused eyes. The mood remained dark until Gratian, bless his fool soul, blurted out;“Fuck, but Centenarius Demetrius was a prick.”That brought out a few chuckles. Niketas let out another burp, and Maurice swatted the back of his head. Most of us felt lighter after that. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the past. The things we’d done, the friends we’d lost, It wasn’t good to remember. Stratiotai had to live for the moment.Maybe that was why I’d always been such a terrible soldier.Midnight guard duty.It was approaching midnight when Sergius hauled himself to his feet. He blinked bleary eyes, motioning to the others.“Right boys, we’ve got patrol in the morning. Let’s get moving.”The men swallowed their last mouthfuls of wine, said their goodbyes and stumbled away with various levels of coordination.Sergius watched them go with a shake of his head. He riffled through a pouch at his side for a moment before turning back to me.“I’ve got something for you here, Centenarius. It got to the barracks a week or so ago.”He held a folded envelope out towards me. It had my name on it, written out in my mother’s blocky hand. I snatched it from him, quickly stuffing it away and out of sight. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to ruin this night.“It was good to see you, Leo,” Sergius said. He pulled me to my feet, and pounded my back in a rough embrace. “Don’t forget about us rankers while you’re dining with nobles.”“Take care of yourself, Serg,” I said, returning his embrace. “And, thank you.”“We’re on garrison duty,” the old soldier grinned. “What’s going to happen in the capital?”Sergius surprised Helena by pulling her into a hug next. “Keep your shield tight to his. Our Centenarius always seems to be around when shit is the deepest.”“I’ll keep him the sword from his back,” Helena said. “Though, it might loosen him up a bit.”The older man laughed. “It was good to meet you, lass. And remember, you’ve got a brother in old Sergius.” With a last little wave, he ambled out and into the deepening night.“You were right,” Helena said, settling back. She popped the last of the pitaroudia in her mouth. “This is a great place.”“Even with Grat here?” I asked with a smile.“Even still,” she said, her lips curling upward. She put her elbow on the table, leaning her heads against her palm. “I’m happy that you introduced me to your friends. I didn’t think it would be this, nice.”“It was,” I said. I shifted in my seat, wanting to move my chair closer to her. But the movement jostled the letter in my pocket. Suddenly, my mother’s words weighed more than a boulder. I shifted again, an awkward jerk of my body that accomplished nothing.Helena’s smile softened. She took pity on me, scooting over until her leg pressed against mine. I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair. We sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the quiet murmur of the few remaining patrons.“This was always my favorite part,” I said, after a while. I opened my eyes to find Helena watching me, waiting for me to continue.“A place like this,” I said. “With the others; once the campaigns done. It’s,”I trailed off, trying to order my thoughts. How could I explain this to someone who’d never been to war? How did I tell her of the constant tension; of the anxious expectation that came with knowing that somewhere, beyond the light of your campfire, someone wanted you dead.Kill or be killed; there was none of that here. I could drink with my friends, without wondering which of them I would lose. Or what I would have to do.It was just; "different,” I finished.Helena didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile or tease. She just watched me with eyes that took in so much of me. I caught a glimpse of it; the edge that wondrous vastness behind her cypress gaze. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and letting out a long breath.“Different,” she said. “I like that.”My eyes suddenly prickled. I blinked furiously, trying to clear the wetness seeping into them. I turned, leaning my chin against her hair; breathing in the scent of her. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my mother’s letter forgotten.“Leo,” she said. “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”“I, I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve always been a soldier.”“But could you do it for ten more years?”“What else would I do? My father was stratiotai, and his father and his father. I don’t know anything else.”Helena shifted against my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck.“What was your plan once you retired?”I bobbed my shoulders in a small shrug, careful not to disturb her. “Go back to Rhodos. My mother is a seamstress. I’d help her run the shop.”“And marry a ‘good’ woman?” She said, her tone edged with mocking.I didn’t answer, though I tightened my grip on Helena. For a heartbeat, her body was stiff. Then, she let out another long breath, relaxing against me.“What about something like this?” She asked, gesturing around us. “A tavern.”“Running a Winehouse?”She pushed off of me, suddenly more animated. “Why not? You could open a soldier’s tavern on Rhodos; make a place for old stratiotai.”“A peaceful place,” I murmured.“Exactly!” She grinned. “It's a good idea, right?”“I’d have to learn how to make pitaroudia,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.“I’m sure Kostas will give you his recipe.”I laughed. “I’m a solider, Helena, not a cook. I think I even burned water once.”“You are a soldier,” she said. Her eyes held mine. “But you can be something else.”I looked away, swallowing.“You’ll think about it?”“Sure,” I forced some lightness into my tone. “But only if you promise that you’d go out and catch fish for me every day.”Helena stiffened, her face suddenly bright red. Not the reaction I’d been expecting. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching. “You don’t think I’d be better as the cook? Or serving drinks?”“No,” I said, not having to force my smile. “You belong on the sea, right?”Her eyes were so wide. I felt my heart start to beat faster. That vastness, it was there, rising to the edge of her; on the verge of breaking through.“Leo,” she murmured. “I,”She was interrupted by the thump of a pouch onto our table. I looked over to find Kostas’ son standing by our table. The kid looked exhausted, but triumphant."You found what I asked for, then?” I said.He nodded, holding out a grubby hand.“Good man,” I grinned, flipping him a silver coin. He disappeared without another word. I quickly disengaged myself from Helena to put the lumpy, medium sized pouch away.“It's a surprise,” I told her. “For later.”She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t press me. She downed her last mouthful of wine, letting out a happy sigh. “We have to come back here.”I nodded, bringing my own wine to my lips.“It's nice to see that you can relax without my cunny in your mouth.”I choked, spraying out a mouthful of wine. Helena laughed, that deep, joy-filled sound. She pounded my back as I coughed myself hoarse. My face blazed, and I felt the eyes of everyone turn towards me.“Leo,” she said. “You’re defenseless.”I coughed, glaring at her through watery eyes.“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”We walked out into the night, breathing in the city’s quiet. Although, it did not last long. We were but a handful of blocks from the Winehouse, when, out of the dark, we saw the fire.And heard the baying of the mob.A past shared with the Empress.The baying of the mob. The glow of fire.After a few moments of debate, Helena and I decided to move towards it. There were no screams of pain, no real sounds of violence coming from the streets ahead. We would see what there was, we decided, before returning to the Empress.We came into a square; one with a small, torch-lit church planted solidly at the northern end. A few squads of armored stratiotai, perhaps forty men, stood before the single door. They were imperial legionaries, though I did not recognize any of the grim-faced men. They all looked outward, swords drawn.Surrounding them, was the mob.The seething body of humanity was all around them. They totally filled the square; men, women, children. The old and the

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.The streets had been quiet as we’d passed, oddly subdued. The few people we saw had quickly ducked out of our way, though we were in our tunicae and sandals.Kostas’ place, I was happy to see, was lively. Drunken soldiers weren’t spilling out of the place, but there was enough of a crowd that we had to push our way past a few people. I led Helena to the back, where crusty old Kostas scowled from behind his bar.“Kostas,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I promised this Rhodian lady some pitaroudia. Are you going to disappoint her?”“Rhodian?” He said, suddenly a lot less grouchy looking.“From Lindos,” Helena said.We chatted for a bit, swapping the latest bit of island news that we had while Kostas poured us a couple of flagons of dark wine. The food would be ready in a few minutes, he told us.“She’s paying,” I said, when I spotted Kostas’ young son.The kid was coming back with an empty drink tray. I hooked him by the arm, leading him away. I put a silver coin in his hand, promising him another if he’d fetch something for me.Helena looked at me curiously, but I kept my mouth shut against her silent question.“Centenarius!” I heard a voice call. “Leontius!”I turned, already feeling a grin stretching my features. At a nearby table, five men were waving towards me. They wore happy smiles, their cheeks rosy with wine.“Sergius! You old bastard! What the hell are you doing here?”Sergius, a crusty old stratiotai with more scars on him than most had years, made a show of cupping one ear.“Can’t hear you so good, sir! Come here and whisper it to me.”The men at his table laughed. I did too, shaking my head.“Friends of yours?” Helena asked.“Men from my old cohort,” I said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”Helena’s body tightened. I saw that same expression flash across her features. Resignation? Consternation? I wasn’t sure. Even here, away from the dark street, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d seen. It was gone too fast.“Sure,” she said, stepping forward and forcing me to move after her.The men rose to meet me, and I greeted each with a rough embrace and a few rougher words. Sergius, Gratian, Suda, Maurice and Niketas; as good a squad of stratiotai that had ever served in Justinian’s legions.“Boys, this is Helena,” I said as we sat in the chairs pulled over for us. “My shield mate. She guards the Empress with me.”Sergius blinked. Maurice choked on his wine while Suda and Niketas glanced at each other in disbelief. Helena, however, seemed to loosen. Her gaze flicked to me, and I saw the faint crinkle of something disappear from the corners of her eyes.Gratian, horse’s ass that he was, guffawed.“Come on, Centenarius,” he said. He was seated on Helena’s other side, and took the opportunity to drape one arm around her shoulders. “You can’t expect us to believe that sweet little thing fights beside you?”Whatever else I could say about Gratian, and there was a lot, I couldn’t fault his eye.Helena was in her tunica, cut in the same simple, utilitarian shape as my own. It was loose, ending just above her knees and doing nothing to accentuate the feminine curves of her body. However, unlike the wrinkled, slightly stained pale gray of my tunica, hers had been dyed a deep green.It was near to the cypress of her eyes. It made them appear brighter, and more vivid than I’d ever seen them. The green brought out the copper of her hair, deepening it and adding layers to those tumbling waves.She was beautiful; the field of grass after rain.“You think I’m sweet?” Helena said, lips curling into a small smile.“Sweet enough to eat,” he said. His eyes roved up and down her body. “How much?”Helena stayed relaxed. That small smile never left her lips.“I’m good, too.” Gratian insisted. “You’ll see. My phallus’s so good that you should be the one paying me!”He snickered through his leering grin. I shook my head when Sergius opened his mouth to interfere. Although I needn’t have. Because, an instant later, Helena’s fist crunched into Gratian’s throat.He gagged, falling backwards, his chair crashing to the ground. The tavern fell silent, all eyes on Helena as she slowly stood. Helena’s eyes swept the room. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then two. Her lip suddenly quirked.“Nobody touches before they pay.”The room exploded with laughter, covering the sound of Gratian’s moaning. Helena sat back down, while I moved to help the man pick himself off the floor.“I’ll kill her,” he choked. “I’ll fucking kill that bitch.”“Shut up,” I said, loud enough for the others to hear. “She’d gut you like a fish. And I’d cut off whatever bits my shield mate left of you.”I pulled him up, and made a show of checking him over. I hissed into his ear. “You stupid bastard. Helena’s the Empress’ personal guard. Do you want your head to the decorate palace walls?”Gratian’s face blanched. He started to stammer something but I pushed him away. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Go get us some more wine.”“Whatever Kostas hasn’t pissed in for me,” Helena called.Sergius grin was wide. “Good punch, that. It's the only way to get him to shut his hole.”“Aye,” Niketas said, draining his cup. He burped. “Finally, some fucking peace.”“Centenarius,” Maurice said, leaning forward. “No offense to your lady, but a shield mate? Are you sure about this?”“This lady,” Helena said. “Can speak for herself. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you mean.”Maurice complied. “You’re a woman. You’re real pretty, I’ll give you that, but you don’t know what this means.”“I don’t need a phallus to piss standing up. Why would I need one to hold up a shield?”Maurice smirked. “Cute. But it's more than that, it's,”"Wait, you can piss standing up?” Gratian interrupted, returning with two clay pitchers of wine. “Seriously?”The others groaned.“That wasn’t the point, Grat,” Suda said. “Although, now I am a bit curious,”"It's easy,” Helena said, throwing him a wink. “And I guarantee that I can piss better than Grat fucks.”Laughter rolled around the table. Even Gratian snickered, though heat crawled up his face. He started pouring the wine, filling Helena’s cup and then mine.“So, what the hell are you talking about, then?”“If she can really be Leo’s shield mate,” Maurice said. “If she can fight.”“She knows what it means, Maur,” I said. “She’s good, too. Fast. And she’s got some sense, unlike you thick-headed bastards.”“Good enough for me,” Sergius said. “What do you say boys, we gonna keep her around?”“Let's drink!” Niketas said, grabbing his cup.Sergius banged the table, hoisting his own cup into the air. “To Helena!”“Helena!” We roared, slamming our empty cups down a few moments later.Helena joined in, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed a happy red. Our pitaroudia arrived, and we fell to bickering over the platter of fried balls. They were delicious; tomato, onion and bits of a leafy herb mixed into a patty of ground chickpea.These were rough men that lived rough lives. They were soldiers; killers that earned their coin in the grinding crush of the shield wall. They respected a foul mouth, a hard fist and loyalty to one’s brothers.They were stratiotai.And when Helena clacked her cup with a still sheepish looking Gratian; I saw them start to think of her as one too.“Leo never told me that he was a Centenarius,” Helena eventually said.I snorted. “That’s because I’m not. These idiots just call me that.”“The crest on the helmet don’t make the Centenarius,” Suda drawled. “Ain’t that right, Serg?”“You’re damned right about that, lad,” the older man replied. “Some wise words there.”I rolled my eyes, the rest of the boys snickering into their cups. Sergius liked to share whatever kernels of wisdom popped into his head. We’d all heard this particular one a hundred times already.“We call him that because of Callinicum,” Sergius continued, answering Helena’s question.“Ah,” she said. “You were all there?”Sergius nodded, “and my bones would be decorating some Persian’s trophy shelf if it wasn’t for the Centenarius here. All of ours would.”The mood sobered, each of us remembering. I looked down to my hands; seeing the flecks of old, old blood beneath my fingernails. The ones I could never seem to clean.“Was it bad?” Helena asked.“Aye,” Sergius answered. “The old Centenarius was a right stupid prick. He got himself killed in the first charge of the Sassanid horsemen. Leontius here took over after that. Things were real shaky for a bit, but he kept us from scattering and being cut to pieces. And when the general decided he’d had enough of watching us die, Leo got us retreating.”Nobody spoke for a while, memories holding us. Some of us put wine to our lips. I just stared out at nothing with unfocused eyes. The mood remained dark until Gratian, bless his fool soul, blurted out;“Fuck, but Centenarius Demetrius was a prick.”That brought out a few chuckles. Niketas let out another burp, and Maurice swatted the back of his head. Most of us felt lighter after that. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the past. The things we’d done, the friends we’d lost, It wasn’t good to remember. Stratiotai had to live for the moment.Maybe that was why I’d always been such a terrible soldier.Midnight guard duty.It was approaching midnight when Sergius hauled himself to his feet. He blinked bleary eyes, motioning to the others.“Right boys, we’ve got patrol in the morning. Let’s get moving.”The men swallowed their last mouthfuls of wine, said their goodbyes and stumbled away with various levels of coordination.Sergius watched them go with a shake of his head. He riffled through a pouch at his side for a moment before turning back to me.“I’ve got something for you here, Centenarius. It got to the barracks a week or so ago.”He held a folded envelope out towards me. It had my name on it, written out in my mother’s blocky hand. I snatched it from him, quickly stuffing it away and out of sight. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to ruin this night.“It was good to see you, Leo,” Sergius said. He pulled me to my feet, and pounded my back in a rough embrace. “Don’t forget about us rankers while you’re dining with nobles.”“Take care of yourself, Serg,” I said, returning his embrace. “And, thank you.”“We’re on garrison duty,” the old soldier grinned. “What’s going to happen in the capital?”Sergius surprised Helena by pulling her into a hug next. “Keep your shield tight to his. Our Centenarius always seems to be around when shit is the deepest.”“I’ll keep him the sword from his back,” Helena said. “Though, it might loosen him up a bit.”The older man laughed. “It was good to meet you, lass. And remember, you’ve got a brother in old Sergius.” With a last little wave, he ambled out and into the deepening night.“You were right,” Helena said, settling back. She popped the last of the pitaroudia in her mouth. “This is a great place.”“Even with Grat here?” I asked with a smile.“Even still,” she said, her lips curling upward. She put her elbow on the table, leaning her heads against her palm. “I’m happy that you introduced me to your friends. I didn’t think it would be this, nice.”“It was,” I said. I shifted in my seat, wanting to move my chair closer to her. But the movement jostled the letter in my pocket. Suddenly, my mother’s words weighed more than a boulder. I shifted again, an awkward jerk of my body that accomplished nothing.Helena’s smile softened. She took pity on me, scooting over until her leg pressed against mine. I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair. We sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the quiet murmur of the few remaining patrons.“This was always my favorite part,” I said, after a while. I opened my eyes to find Helena watching me, waiting for me to continue.“A place like this,” I said. “With the others; once the campaigns done. It’s,”I trailed off, trying to order my thoughts. How could I explain this to someone who’d never been to war? How did I tell her of the constant tension; of the anxious expectation that came with knowing that somewhere, beyond the light of your campfire, someone wanted you dead.Kill or be killed; there was none of that here. I could drink with my friends, without wondering which of them I would lose. Or what I would have to do.It was just; "different,” I finished.Helena didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile or tease. She just watched me with eyes that took in so much of me. I caught a glimpse of it; the edge that wondrous vastness behind her cypress gaze. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and letting out a long breath.“Different,” she said. “I like that.”My eyes suddenly prickled. I blinked furiously, trying to clear the wetness seeping into them. I turned, leaning my chin against her hair; breathing in the scent of her. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my mother’s letter forgotten.“Leo,” she said. “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”“I, I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve always been a soldier.”“But could you do it for ten more years?”“What else would I do? My father was stratiotai, and his father and his father. I don’t know anything else.”Helena shifted against my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck.“What was your plan once you retired?”I bobbed my shoulders in a small shrug, careful not to disturb her. “Go back to Rhodos. My mother is a seamstress. I’d help her run the shop.”“And marry a ‘good’ woman?” She said, her tone edged with mocking.I didn’t answer, though I tightened my grip on Helena. For a heartbeat, her body was stiff. Then, she let out another long breath, relaxing against me.“What about something like this?” She asked, gesturing around us. “A tavern.”“Running a Winehouse?”She pushed off of me, suddenly more animated. “Why not? You could open a soldier’s tavern on Rhodos; make a place for old stratiotai.”“A peaceful place,” I murmured.“Exactly!” She grinned. “It's a good idea, right?”“I’d have to learn how to make pitaroudia,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.“I’m sure Kostas will give you his recipe.”I laughed. “I’m a solider, Helena, not a cook. I think I even burned water once.”“You are a soldier,” she said. Her eyes held mine. “But you can be something else.”I looked away, swallowing.“You’ll think about it?”“Sure,” I forced some lightness into my tone. “But only if you promise that you’d go out and catch fish for me every day.”Helena stiffened, her face suddenly bright red. Not the reaction I’d been expecting. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching. “You don’t think I’d be better as the cook? Or serving drinks?”“No,” I said, not having to force my smile. “You belong on the sea, right?”Her eyes were so wide. I felt my heart start to beat faster. That vastness, it was there, rising to the edge of her; on the verge of breaking through.“Leo,” she murmured. “I,”She was interrupted by the thump of a pouch onto our table. I looked over to find Kostas’ son standing by our table. The kid looked exhausted, but triumphant."You found what I asked for, then?” I said.He nodded, holding out a grubby hand.“Good man,” I grinned, flipping him a silver coin. He disappeared without another word. I quickly disengaged myself from Helena to put the lumpy, medium sized pouch away.“It's a surprise,” I told her. “For later.”She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t press me. She downed her last mouthful of wine, letting out a happy sigh. “We have to come back here.”I nodded, bringing my own wine to my lips.“It's nice to see that you can relax without my cunny in your mouth.”I choked, spraying out a mouthful of wine. Helena laughed, that deep, joy-filled sound. She pounded my back as I coughed myself hoarse. My face blazed, and I felt the eyes of everyone turn towards me.“Leo,” she said. “You’re defenseless.”I coughed, glaring at her through watery eyes.“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”We walked out into the night, breathing in the city’s quiet. Although, it did not last long. We were but a handful of blocks from the Winehouse, when, out of the dark, we saw the fire.And heard the baying of the mob.A past shared with the Empress.The baying of the mob. The glow of fire.After a few moments of debate, Helena and I decided to move towards it. There were no screams of pain, no real sounds of violence coming from the streets ahead. We would see what there was, we decided, before returning to the Empress.We came into a square; one with a small, torch-lit church planted solidly at the northern end. A few squads of armored stratiotai, perhaps forty men, stood before the single door. They were imperial legionaries, though I did not recognize any of the grim-faced men. They all looked outward, swords drawn.Surrounding them, was the mob.The seething body of humanity was all around them. They totally filled the square; men, women, children. The old and the

2024-07-12 | It has been said that Russian corruption is Ukraine's greatest ally. But it seems that the interfering bureaucratic mindset of Russian politicians and officials is also a great aid to the Ukrainian war effort. ---------- The Russian parliament adopted a law in July hiking the penalty for the unauthorised use of personal internet devices, and in fact any internet enabled gadgets, by frontline Russian soldiers fighting in Ukraine. The new law follows reports the Russian army is experiencing record losses on the frontline. The law classifies possession of devices that allow military personnel to store or send videos, photos or geolocated data via the internet as a grave offense, punishable by up to 15 days detention. It also forbids the transmission of any information that could be used to identify any Russian troops and their whereabouts. There are some fears that this will make it harder to for Ukrainian units to analyse Russian movements, according to Ukrainian open-source investigators. But even if this law cuts both ways, on balance it's likely that Russian soldiers will come off worse. We can guess at it's negative impact by the uproar it has cause among Z-Patriots and bloggers. Yegor Guzenko, also known as the Thirteenth, said in a Telegram post that the entire army relies on internet devices. "But how can office rats understand and know this? Let's let these scumbags of the Duma go to war themselves," he wrote. ---------- Sources and recommended reading: https://www.politico.eu/article/russian-duma-adopts-law-on-punishment-for-soldiers-using-gadgets-on-the-frontline/ https://www.understandingwar.org/backgrounder/russian-offensive-campaign-assessment-july-23-2024 https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidhambling/2024/07/24/russia-plans-to-punish-troops-using-smartphones-in-ukraine/ https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/may/07/putin-bans-electronic-devices-in-bid-to-stop-russian-military-leaks ---------- SUPPORT THE CHANNEL: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/siliconcurtain https://www.patreon.com/siliconcurtain ---------- TRUSTED CHARITIES ON THE GROUND: Save Ukraine https://www.saveukraineua.org/ Superhumans - Hospital for war traumas https://superhumans.com/en/ UNBROKEN - Treatment. Prosthesis. Rehabilitation for Ukrainians in Ukraine https://unbroken.org.ua/ Come Back Alive https://savelife.in.ua/en/ Chefs For Ukraine - World Central Kitchen https://wck.org/relief/activation-chefs-for-ukraine UNITED24 - An initiative of President Zelenskyy https://u24.gov.ua/ Serhiy Prytula Charity Foundation https://prytulafoundation.org NGO “Herojam Slava” https://heroiamslava.org/ kharpp - Reconstruction project supporting communities in Kharkiv and Przemyśl https://kharpp.com/ NOR DOG Animal Rescue https://www.nor-dog.org/home/ ---------- PLATFORMS: Twitter: https://twitter.com/CurtainSilicon Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/siliconcurtain/ Podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/4thRZj6NO7y93zG11JMtqm Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/finkjonathan/ Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/siliconcurtain ---------- Welcome to the Silicon Curtain podcast. Please like and subscribe if you like the content we produce. It will really help to increase the popularity of our content in YouTube's algorithm. Our material is now being made available on popular podcasting platforms as well, such as Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

We quickly review the games this past week and then break down the trade deadline happenings or non happenings and the return of Randy Dobnak! Follow the show on Twitter at @twinsnationpod, Matt at @mdhoffman61 and Joe at @BigJoeGun. Also we are now an affiliate of Uzzu TV!! If you haven't been able to watch the games because your cable company dropped Bally Sports, your solution is Uzzu.tv! You can sign up for a subscription using the following link. https://uzzu.tv/billing/aff/go/twinsfanforever

We quickly review the games this past week and then break down the trade deadline happenings or non happenings and the return of Randy Dobnak! Follow the show on Twitter at @twinsnationpod, Matt at @mdhoffman61 and Joe at @BigJoeGun. Also we are now an affiliate of Uzzu TV!! If you haven't been able to watch the games because your cable company dropped Bally Sports, your solution is Uzzu.tv! You can sign up for a subscription using the following link. https://uzzu.tv/billing/aff/go/twinsfanforever

La première constatation qui me vient à l'esprit ce matin, c'est que les marchés ne savent plus trop où aller et se retrouvent au milieu de nulle part. Nous attendons plus de détails sur la baisse des taux et en même temps, nous sommes assaillis de données politiques qu'il faut ingérer en grosse quantité sans … Continued

Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day for June 9, 2024 is: consternation • kahn-ster-NAY-shun • noun Consternation is a formal word that refers to a strong feeling of surprise or sudden disappointment that causes confusion. // The candidate caused consternation among his supporters by changing positions on a key issue. See the entry > Examples: “The incarcerated [Freedom] Riders' new freedom song, which they sang incessantly to the consternation of their guards, was ‘Buses Are a Comin',' and the freedom buses continued to roll into Mississippi until mid-August.” — Raymond Arsenault, John Lewis: In Search of the Beloved Community, 2024 Did you know? If you've ever been flummoxed, befuddled, or even fuddled, you know a thing or two about consternation—but perhaps not all of it. Consternation and confusion are not synonymous, though it's understandable that they are sometimes confused. Consternation refers not to confusion, but to a feeling of amazement or dismay that can lead to confusion, or otherwise hinder or stop someone in their tracks. And much like dismay, consternation is often used in constructions starting with “much to,” as in “much to their consternation, their teacher announced a pop quiz as soon as class started.” People also often “express” or “show” their consternation in various ways, whether with furrowed brow, mouth agog, or assorted mumblings and grumblings—visual and audible clues that they are working out just what to do next after being consternated.

In this episode, Whitney is joined by a special guest and talks the election, denouncing, and using blackface to fight racism. Thank you for your likes, shares and subscribes! Don't forget to leave a review! Join us at https://www.patreon.com/WhitneyAlese for dope community and exclusive content. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/TheReclaimedPodcast/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/TheReclaimedPodcast/support

Zach and Jon Krawczynski of The Athletic talk all things Wolves-Nuggets and preview Game 7. Then (38:47) Zach discusses the Boston Celtics soft path to the conference finals and the perception Boston isn't playing well enough to win the title -- and whether anything short of that is a failure. Then (54:09) Zach welcomes in ESPN's Tim MacMahon to discuss Mavs-Thunder, how the Mavs trades worked out, whether OKC blew it at the trade deadline, and much more.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Zach and Jon Krawczynski of The Athletic talk all things Wolves-Nuggets and preview Game 7. Then (38:47) Zach discusses the Boston Celtics soft path to the conference finals and the perception Boston isn't playing well enough to win the title -- and whether anything short of that is a failure. Then (54:09) Zach welcomes in ESPN's Tim MacMahon to discuss Mavs-Thunder, how the Mavs trades worked out, whether OKC blew it at the trade deadline, and much more.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Episode 5: Despite The Consternation It Isn't About Trump... It's About You

On this episode of Big Facts Friday, the crew talks about that feeling we know too well: “Consternation.” From those moments when you're shook to your core to those times you just can't deal with the madness. The squad sheds light on what causes consternation and how it plays out in everyday life. They keep it real about navigating through the ups and downs of life. | Visit: www.bigfactspod.com | Follow: @BigFactsPodSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A free Russia Alexei Navalny's widow stirs emotions in Europe. Ecuador's assassination trail killings planned from prison.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A free Russia Alexei Navalny's widow stirs emotions in Europe. Ecuador's assassination trail killings planned from prison.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A free Russia Alexei Navalny's widow stirs emotions in Europe. Ecuador's assassination trail killings planned from prison.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The Oscar nominations were just announced this week, and as there is seemingly every year, there was plenty of online consternation about the allottment of noms and who got recognized for what. We chime in with our thoughts on the rage-bait du jour, but that's not all! New STAR WARS movies are on the way! A familiar face returns to THE DAILY SHOW! Plus: Listener Letters, assorted other headlines, and much more!

Jeudi 7 décembre, France 2 consacrait son émission «Complément d'enquête» aux accusations de violences sexuelles visant Gérard Depardieu. Depuis, le président Emmanuel Macron a pris la parole pour défendre l'acteur et une cinquantaine d'artistes ont signé une tribune, parue dans le Figaro, demandant à ne pas «l'effacer».À lire sur le même sujet: L'affaire Depardieu réécrit «Le Mariage de Figaro»Un mercredi sur deux, Mansplaining observe les masculinités à travers des œuvres culturelles et des faits d'actualité. Parce que la parole masculine est archi dominante, sauf lorsqu'il s'agit de remettre en question les privilèges des hommes.Références:Virginie Despentes, «Désormais on se lève et on se barre», lecture par Anna MouglalisLe théorème de PasquaEntre 0,6% et 1,3% des viols déclarés aboutissent à une condamnation.Laure Murat, Qui annule quoi?Renée Greusard, «Qui se dévoue pour leur expliquer?» (post Instagram )Jacques Weber, «Coupable» (billet de blog Mediapart)Mansplaining est un podcast de Thomas Messias, produit par Slate Podcasts.Direction éditoriale: Christophe CarronProduction éditoriale: Nina ParejaMontage et réalisation: Mona DelahaisMusique: «Warm Sea», Savvier et «On My Way», Ghostrifter, AIVA remixé par Mona DelahaisSi vous aimez Mansplaining, pensez à l'exprimer en lui donnant la note maximale sur votre plateforme de podcast préférée, en en parlant autour de vous, et en laissant plein de commentaires bienveillants sur les réseaux sociaux.Suivez Slate Podcasts sur Facebook et Instagram (retrouvez-y aussi le compte de Mansplaining).

Someday we'll all be free, just not today or this week. What do you do with knowing the history of a celebration, and facial expressions...Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you for listening to the Cotton Candy Clouds Podcast™️! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/cotton-candy-clouds-podcast/support

How do you tip when you go out to eat?  Henry dives into the current trend of "tipflation" and takes your comments on the issue.  Plus, our host has some thoughts on the Big Ten suspending Michigan football coach Jim Harbaugh.

Nathan Busenitz • Psalm 10:1–13:6 • Cornerstone

Nathan Busenitz • Psalm 10:1–13:6

Everything is in the wrong order. The big stuff comes last and the small stuff comes first. What we're too responsible, and we end up with nothing? Holy Batman props, Batman! Why is there another X-Wing? Did we wrong the prop gods?  Everyone will have spent all their money on the TOS Trek stuff, right? Right? Dave already has a Stormtrooper from A New Hope. So what that this one is in perfect condition, complete, and a hero. Will having it change his sense of self worth? And do our children really need to eat? Like, every day? Houses are over-rated. Except that you need a place to put your cool stuff. Ryan's made it this long without a 2001 costume -- he won't suddenly burst into flames if he continue to not have one, will he?  But what if he does?  Khan!!!!! Consternation, stagnation, and indignation: this week on The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of. SDAMO - Instagram https://www.instagram.com/propspodcast/ SDAMO - Threads https://www.threads.net/@propspodcast SDAMO - Twitter https://twitter.com/propspodcast?lang=en SDAMO - Facebook https://www.facebook.com/propspodcast/ SDAMO - TikTok https://www.tiktok.com/@props.podcast David Mandel - Instagram https://www.instagram.com/davidhmandel/

Arielle Lauer habite en Israël, à 22km de la frontière avec la Bande de Gaza. Calfeutrée dans sa chambre blindée, elle fait part de sa détresse.

Novacare injury report with Dr. Damon A. Greene. The Morning team grapple with an undefeated Eagles team that has struggled. Bad to the Bone awards for the Eagles/Vikings game. Birds eye view with Eliot Shorr-Parks.

Hour 3 of The FAN Morning Show kicks off with Jeff Blair, co-host of Blair and Barker, checking in to discuss the Blue Jays' results from Labour Day weekend, the impact of the “Buffalo Bunch,” ongoing consternation surrounding Vladimir Guerrero Jr., the team's propensity for grounding into double plays, and the heavy workload being shouldered by the Jays' starting staff. Later, Ailish and Jesse are joined by Carl English (25:45), former member of the Canadian men's national team, to chat about Canada qualifying next summer's Olympics, the evolution of the program dating back to his early involvement with the team, Canada's roster construction at the World Cup, Dillon Brooks' redemption arc, and this team's chances of winning the tournament. Ailish and Jesse close out the show by assembling our daily Wake and Rake parlay!The views and opinions expressed in this podcast are those of the hosts and guests and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rogers Sports & Media or any affiliate. 

Holly and Tracy talk about the furor over Ming the clam, and why it's irrational for most people. Tracy continues the discussion of the problems with the sourcing of Anna's story.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Filming of the CPC streaming show "Conflict Survival!: Honduras" gets off to a rocky start. The security team at G.E.R.L. Lottery Transition Center No. 3 uncovers evidence of a plot to infiltrate the lottery. Meanwhile Monica searches for Elliot who is happily preparing for his retirement after absconding with Jerry's ticket.Warning: This episode contains adult content, adult language, violence, and juvenile jokes.//A LovelyMachine & Story Engine Production. Created and Written by Gregory Bayne. Produced and Directed by Gregory Bayne and Logan Donovan. Starring Logan Donovan, Jennifer Lafleur, Travis Swartz, and Jonathan Freeman.For more information visit: goodbyebluemondayspod.com

Members of the Muslim community in Australia have been confused after conflicting views in response to a report by the Australian National Imams' Council on halal meat. Following a study, the Council found poultry subjected to Controlled Atmosphere Stunning should not be consumed under Islamic law. But other Muslim representative bodies say the findings are problematic and insufficient.

In this episode, we discuss the difficulty some Christians have with evangelism. We're commanded to do it, yet the act of doing it brings many a great deal of anxiety. We look at why this is the case and what we can do to overcome these fears. Plus, Jack tells a wild evangelism story about a time he went to a place called "The Hell House"

The first weekend of the 2023 MLS season is in the books! David Gass joins Taylor and Joe to take a look back at the best and worst moments from the weekend, and jump to some completely logical conclusions after 90 minutes of games. How old is too old when it comes to Toronto? Can DC United find success without employing anyone in their mid-to-late 20s? Is Cade Cowell the new Jordan Morris? Does Taylor know anything about MLS contracts? The answer to that last one is "No" but for the rest, you'll have to listen!--JOIN THE TSS+ PATREON!Check out our brand-new Patreon, which houses bonus podcasts, access to our exclusive Discord, blog posts, videos, and much more.Become a member today at patreon.com/totalsoccershow! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The first weekend of the 2023 MLS season is in the books! David Gass joins Taylor and Joe to take a look back at the best and worst moments from the weekend, and jump to some completely logical conclusions after 90 minutes of games. How old is too old when it comes to Toronto? Can DC United find success without employing anyone in their mid-to-late 20s? Is Cade Cowell the new Jordan Morris? Does Taylor know anything about MLS contracts? The answer to that last one is "No" but for the rest, you'll have to listen! -- JOIN THE TSS+ PATREON! Check out our brand-new Patreon, which houses bonus podcasts, access to our exclusive Discord, blog posts, videos, and much more. Become a member today at patreon.com/totalsoccershow! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Consternation in Steeler Nation - revel in the process and improvementIs it better to not make the playoffs?Coaching changes - can Canada be far behind?Flores gone?Draft positionHit us up on Twitter at @Steelersoutpost Shoot us an email at Steelersoutpost@gmail.comSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.